


Your Templar

by dismalzelenka



Series: A Song in the Stillness [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amell Inquisitor, Angst, Blood Magic, F/M, Gen, Regret, a song in the stillness, headcanon oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismalzelenka/pseuds/dismalzelenka
Summary: Solona wasn't even supposed to be at the Conclave, much less end up the sole survivor of the temple's destruction. Back in Haven, the Herald of Andraste runs into a ghost from her past that dredges up painful memories she'd have rather left buried.





	Your Templar

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an on the fly Tumblr drabble inspired by a post on the dragon age confessions tumblr about how everyone in Inquisition refers to Cullen as "your templar." Solona Amell bristles at the unintentional insinuation, for obvious reasons. Set during the first act of Inquisition in the Song in the Stillness universe. 
> 
> mild CW for talk of self harm, because blood magic.

They call him her templar. They all do it, and it drives Solona mad. They couldn’t know why, of course; it's an innocent enough statement on its own. Well, Leliana probably knew, but the others certainly didn’t share the spymaster’s guile. If the rest of them knew, it would have been written all over their faces, but they didn’t know. Couldn’t possibly know that their Commander Cullen _was_ her templar once. A lifetime or two ago.

He’d also been unequivocally _hers_ then. But that was then. _Before_.

She traced her fingers along the scar across her palm, and then the one slashed across her neck. One by her hand, meant to save, to heal, to bring him back from death’s doorstep. One by his, meant to send her there instead. She still couldn’t figure out which one had been more of a mistake.

_I did it to save you, love. You were dying. I had to save you._

_You’ve cursed us both, mage. Would that you left me to die instead._

Her templar. Her jailer. Her first love. Her killer, had the Warden-Commander not intervened. Perhaps that had been the mistake.

The mark on her hand crackled over the scar and turned it an unearthly shade of sickly green. Solona inspected it curiously. Would it react, she wondered, if she opened her veins for power again? She held in a pained laugh. She hadn’t touched a sacrificial blade again since that night, though she couldn’t decide whether it was prudence or cowardice that held her back.

_Would that you left me to die instead._

She swallowed uncomfortably. Blood magic was supposed to mark you. Make you callous and disinterested in preserving life. Increase your thirst for power. Sometimes she wished all of these horrible things she’d been told were true, because maybe then she wouldn’t care so damn much about what he’d said to her after. Maybe she would have decided to finish the job herself and felt no remorse about it whatsoever. Maker knows that would have been easier than this…whatever this was.

_Enchanter Amell. What an unexpected surprise._

His voice had been pained. She could practically taste the scowl straining against an obviously faked neutral expression. It had almost made her laugh then; he had never been a particularly talented liar.

_Would that you left me to die instead._

Would she have ever wanted that? Did he, still? She stared into the green crackling in her palm for answers, but the only thing meeting her eye was a single scar, jagged and raised, lurking behind the Fade-touched Maker-only-knew-what that had joined it to adorn her hand. A single scar. An old wound turned sour with unwanted memories. A decade-old question with no conceivable answer in sight.


End file.
